


Unforeseen Side Effect

by Qpenguin98



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, damn i really wrote for voltron in 2019, it jumps around, just a bit, unheard of for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19089454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: Matt wonders sometimes if the aftermath of the war is worse than the being in it.





	Unforeseen Side Effect

Matt wonders sometimes if the aftermath of the war is worse than the being in it. It certainly seems worse sometimes. Let’s be real, he’d never go back in willingly, and it’s not terrible, living with what he’s been given. But there’s this something, this undercurrent of tension, waiting for a shoe to drop that never will.

All the feelings he never got to feel in the thick of it slamming into him one by one isn’t all that great either.

But again, there are worse endings he could’ve ended up with. Allura’s dead. So are billions of others. He got off easy comparatively. His whole family’s still alive, including his dog. Some of his friends are dead, in fact, quite a few of them, both from earth and in space, but it’s okay because he’s alive. There is nothing more for him to be than alive.

So no, he decides. The aftermath of war can’t be worse. At least he knows what to expect from the day now, instead of wondering with a sick sense of learned calmness whether it’d be him or his friends dying.

Nothing matters anymore, Matt thinks as he stares up at the too smooth ceiling of his childhood bedroom.

Maybe he should move out.

\---

“Okay okay okay,” he says with a mouthful of fries. “Say it again for me? Pretty sure I misheard.”

“Matt, come on,” Shiro says, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t wanna do this.”

“Well clearly you do, because you announced it to me, at our holy dining table, in this fine establishment, over our trash burgers. Give me the pitch again, bud. I’m gonna need to hear that one twice.”

“I asked Adam on a date,” he groans out, coving his eyes with his hand.

“Adam, from English class.”

“Yes, Adam from English class.”

“Did he say yes?”

“He might’ve,” Shiro mumbles and Matt claps with glee.

“You think it’s gonna work out? You two, together, having a little fighter pilot family, lost in the sunset together—”

“Jesus, Matt, it’s one date. I don’t even know if it’ll work out.”

“As your best friend, aren’t I allowed to plan your forays into romance for you? I feel like I should be.”

“Absolutely not,” Shiro says, sitting back up. “Besides, weren’t you just raving about that kid in your engineering class?”

“Ah, that is but a fantasy, my dear. You on the other hand, have gone full force into it! A date, that you asked for. You’ve really made it to the big leagues. My little Shiro, all grown up.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Pah, a piddly year and a half. I could still be your dad.”

“You absolutely could not,” and ah, he’s smiling again. Good. Matt loves to joke, but only if the people know he’s joking. It’s always awkward when people think he’s making fun of them instead of making fun _with_ them. “We could be distant cousins in some weird way, and that’s the only way you could be higher than me on the family echelon.”

“Or, I could be one of your parent’s way younger brother and end up your uncle, thus resulting in me calling you champ and throwing you a football every time I see you in a chance to connect through the strangeness of our family situation.”

“You think about this a lot?”

“Only when I have a point to prove, and boy do I have a point to prove. The point being, how do you think the date’s gonna go? And when is it, so I can stalk from the sidelines.”

“One, you’re not doing that, and two, I… I hope it’ll go good.” He looks a little fond, and Matt hasn’t missed the looks Shiro shoots his fellow fighter pilot in class. Lord knows how bad it is in flight practice. “We’ve talked before, about the planes, and teachers we hate and stuff. Just hoping we have more in common than flying.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.” He affects a deeper voice, puffing up his chest a bit. “You’re both strapping young men with too much potential, and we all know where that leads—”

“Fuck off,” Shiro says lightly, throwing a fry off Matt’s tray at his face. Matt catches it with his mouth, grinning. “Weren’t we supposed to be doing something here?”

“I mean, studying,” he glances at the forgotten pile of books and papers. “But that can be done in our dorm. Sharing the newest hot gossip about your love life can, admittedly, be done in the dorms as well, but it’s so much better with food.”

He takes a bite of his burger to proves his point, mouth twisting at the stray onion that got left in the mix. Unfortunate texture added to his chewing.

“It really looks better,” Shiro says, raising an eyebrow at his expression. I can tell how much you like it.”

“Shut up and eat your food and tell me all about how it got this far.”

Shiro sighs and shoves a fry in his mouth. “Dunno how I’m supposed to do all three, but I guess I can.”

Matt settles in for the ride. It’s dinner and a show tonight, all at the courtesy of his best friend.

Studying can definitely wait.

\---

He thinks having to rely on his parents still is the worst part. They’ve been through so much, and here he is taking up more space. He gets Pidge staying there, they’re like seventeen, still perfectly aged to be at home. But he’s twenty seven and isn’t _that_ weird. They hit space, got captured, and he was certain he wasn’t going to make it to twenty three. That he’d die twenty two and alone in a cold cell with no food and no way to communicate with his cellmates. That he’d never see his dad or his mom and his sibling again, that Shiro had sacrificed himself for him to waste away in cell, curled up on himself and staring at nothing.

Him and Pidge don’t even have the same age difference anymore. It used to be eight years, but now it almost eleven. Voltron disappeared for three years and he thought they’d died and he’d actually lost them this time, but no, they came back, just the same age that he’d left them at. Sixteen and confused about the weird time shenanigans that they’d gone through, and all Matt could feel was tired.

He still feels tired, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Hey,” Pidge says, resting against his doorframe and knocking on it. “We’ve got a date with robotics. Are you still coming?”

“Yeah, just,” he swings himself upright on his bed, springs creaking under him. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”

“You get up today?” They ask, frowning. “It’s three in the afternoon, Matt.”

“I’m aware.” He wasn’t, but they don’t need to know that. “Slow start.”

They scoff and push off the frame, eyebrows furrowed. “Come _on._ We have a robot to build and I am not letting you shove it all off on me. This is a family event.”

“I don’t see mom and dad and Bae-Bae pitching in.”

“Holt Siblings Family Event,” they say with a grin. “You know that’s always better.”

He has to admit that they’re right. It was always fun when him and Pidge would make something up on the fly just to see if it would run, much to the exasperation of their parents.

“Fine, lemme get a clean shirt on and I’ll be down.”

“You better, or I’m bringing the robot to your room.”

They leave, and he sits there for another moment, clenching and unclenching his hands. His parents would want him home, after all the shit they went through to get back to this. He can stay a little longer before he dips, gets his own place, figures out a job.

The shirt feels wrong against his skin when he pulls it on, but Pidge is waiting, and he can’t let them down.

\---

Matt is well behaved when he first meets Keith, or, better phrased, when he first encounters him. He’s sitting in their living room, clothed in a shirt that’s a size too big, and he’s frowning at his notebook. He scribbles something out and rewrites it. He doesn’t look up when Matt comes into their dorm.

“Uh…”

“Matt!” Shiro says, jumping up from his spot next to Keith. “This is Keith. I’m helping him out with his schoolwork. Keith, this is Matt, my roommate.”

He holds up a hand in greeting, glancing at him to get a look at him before delving right back into the problem on his notebook. Matt feels a little miffed if he’s being honest, but he heads off to his room anyway after an apologetic shrug from Shiro. He sets up so he can watch them while still doing work on his laptop. There’s nothing else to do, he’s got all the work he’s going to get done before last minute done and this is interesting. He’s never met this kid, and he looks like eight years younger than Shiro, which would make an absolute baby in their living room.

It’s a while until he leaves, but when he does, Shiro goes with him, and it’s a few minutes before he comes back.

“You pick up a stray?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

“I meant what I said. I’m helping with his schooling. He wants to get into the Garrison and he’s still a year out.”

“That kid’s fifteen? Jesus he’s tiny.”

“I remember your pictures at fifteen having the world’s smallest Matt in them, so I’m not sure you get to talk.”

“I wasn’t that small. He like, undergrown.” Matt comes all the way out onto the couch. “Where’d you pick him up at?”

“At the flight sim. Buncha new recruits and he blew them all out of the park. Has a bit of a temper though, so we’re working on that and his other studies.”

“I can’t believe it,” Matt says.

“Believe what? I’ve tutored kids before, Matt.”

“No, not that.” Mat grins very suddenly, because he’s remembered the best thing he ever said. “I can’t believe you and Adam have only been dating six months and you’ve already got a kid for your crazy fighter pilot family.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Shiro slaps a hand over his eyes. “I can’t believe you remember saying that.”

“I remember everything, everything important that I can use to my advantage, that is. Adam met him yet?”

“Yeah, he works in the pilot recruiting office. Keith doesn’t talk to him much, but I think they like each other? I don’t know. He kind of seems to have latched onto me.”

“Uh yeah. You’re always good with problem kids.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. It’s because you broke all the rules getting up as far as you did. They can sense that kind of stuff.”

“I wasn’t a problem kid, Matt.”

“Pretty sure you side stepping every attempt to get you to relax and step down for your health makes you a problem kid. Honestly, Shiro. You’re the Garrison’s best problem kid.”

“Wouldn’t say best,” he says as he sits. “Might actually be their most problematic though. God it’s annoying how they still try it all with me every few months, like I’ll forget what I want to do with my life instead of sitting around acting like I’m dying.”

“According to all the fancy medical stuff you kinda are? Just a lot slower than they like to treat it.”

“Liability bullshit,” Shiro grumbles. “Garrison’s health services can choke.”

“Probably. But then who would be there to tell everyone to fuck off when they’re having a rough time?”

Shiro snorts and tips his head back.

“You think he’ll like me?”

“Who?”

“That Keith kid. I assume he’ll be coming by the dorm more often. It’s fine by the way, I’m just glad I didn’t say some horrifically scarring things to a fifteen year old first thing today.”

“I’m sure he will. You both like to do dumb stuff in your free time.”

“I don’t do dumb stuff!”

“Hot sauce marshmallow toast sandwich is dumb stuff, Matthew.”

“Alright, I’ll admit, that wasn’t my brightest moment, but the rest of my food experiments are pretty successful. Plus the marshmallow immediately neutralized the hot sauce and just made it a terrible salty garnish.”

“Nasty.” Shiro shivers and Matt acquiesces to the statement.

“I hope he likes me, though I doubt it. The only kid I’m good with is Katie, and even she gets tired of me sometimes.

“Figures. You’re so damn particular.”

“I’m particular because I like it. I can drop it all at will.”

“I’m going to drive and not use my blinkers in your presence, and then I’m going to put all your stuff off center.”

“I’ll murder you in your sleep, Takashi, just you fucking try it.”

“See? You’re way too particular.”

“The first one is a safety hazard and the second one is just plain rude. I’ve got all my stuff in piles that I know the depths of, and if they get disturbed my system is ruined.”

“Yeah, that’s because your system’s not shit.”

“ _Your_ system’s not shit,” he argues back, climbing over the back of the couch to join him. “Lemme choose the movie.”

“Please don’t play Twister, Matt, I have better things to do than watching tornado chasers.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” he says as he lies through his teeth, and as he types in the title in the search bar Shiro makes a long suffering noise next to him.

“What? I’m not _playing_ the game Twister. I’m just choosing a movie with the same name.”

“I hat you and your double meanings for everything,” Shiro says, but he doesn’t get up to leave.

Sounds about right.

\---

“We need to talk,” Pidge says on the castle ship. He’s leaving in about a week to join back up with the rebels, but he’s been helping out where he can here.

“What’s up?”

She sits on the edge of his bed, staring at her feet. She looks almost angry.

“Did I do something? This a new thing or an old thing?”

“You haven’t done anything,” she snaps at him, still not looking up. “This is a me thing.”

“Okay, and what you thing could we be talking about?”

“The name thing.”

“Pidge? I thought everyone called you that now. Do you still want me to drop the nickname? I feel like it’s a little late for that.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t actually want you to stop calling me Pidge. In fact, I’d love it if you never called me anything other than Pidge. Definitely not Katie. That one’s off the table for good.”

Matt looks at the way she’s holding herself, eyes still averted, body tensed and poised to leave and thinks through the things she’s told him about life between him leaving and them reuniting. He thinks he’s got it.

“You pretended to be a boy to get into the Garrison. Has it stopped being pretend?”

“Not exactly,” she says, but her shoulders loosen, and score one for Matt in good big brother points in space. “I’m not a boy, but I’m still Pidge. And at this point I’m pretty certain Pidge isn’t a girl.”

“Cool,” he says. “What would a Pidge like to be referred with?”

“They?” It’s tentative, and he almost misses it, but it’s there.

He swings an arm over their shoulder and pulls them in close. “They it is, Pidge. Got any other big reveals for me or is this it for today?”

“Think this is it,” and they sound a little choked up. His other arm wraps around them and they clutch at his shirt a bit. “Wish you weren’t leaving.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “I wish I could stay, but we all have jobs to do now. You fight off bad guys in a sick ass sentient robot and I manage groups of people and hit baddies with my big stick. I think it really worked out for our best potential.”

“Visit soon, or comm with us. We still have to find dad.”

“Obvi. I’m not leaving that all up to you. This is a Holt Siblings Family Event after all, we’re gonna get him back all in one piece.”

“Okay,” they say, and they pull back, looking at him for a second before standing. “I gotta go finish stuff up.”

“Have fun, don’t cry into any electronics.”

“I’m not _crying_ ,” they snark, blinking quickly. “You’re crying. Fuck you, bye.”

“Love you too!”

He’s loathe to leave even more now. That was important, and he wonders if the rest of the crew knows. Probably, they might have gotten closer with everyone on the castle ship than him at this point.

It doesn’t matter. They trusted him, and it make his heart swell a little bit. Now he just has to make sure this Holt Siblings event goes exactly as planned.

\---

Matt is certain he’s dying. There’s a weight on his chest and he’s lying on the cold hard ground. He can’t pull in a full breath and there’s black spots in the corners of his vision. His head aches where he clutches at it, eyes not focusing where they really should be on his surroundings. His team could be hurt, he should get up, but he can’t. There’s no getting out of this one, Matty. This is how he dies, alone and afraid and choking on air that doesn’t even reach his brain.

“Matt?” calls from somewhere to his left, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe that’s one of his dead friends, welcoming him into the afterlife for fallen jackasses.

Steps come up to him before stopping, creaking of floorboards reaching his ears as someone sits down. Floorboards?

“Matty,” they say, and his head gets lifted up. He panics, arm flailing out, and the person dodges it easily. “Come on, Matty, breathe. Sit up a bit for me and breathe.”

They prop him up, on a leg maybe? His hands get pulled away and all the pressure on his head disappears. He drops his head into his knees, sucking in air that seems to be coming a bit clearer. The weight on his chest is gone, black spots clearing, and a hand rubs on his back.

“That’s it. Take it in, remember where you are. It’s over, you’re home. We’re all back home Matty. Everything’s okay.”

The hand is warm against his back, callused and snagging on his shirt occasionally. Familiar voice, known for a while. For a long time, who is he kidding? He lifts his head up, eyes bleary, and turns to find the face of his dad. He smiling tiredly at him and Matt just stares, takes in the sight of him against the old paint backdrop of his room.

“Dad,” he says dumbly, lungs shuddering in his chest and his heart slams against his ribs. Everything narrows in and he relaxes, just a bit.

“Yep, that’s me, your dear old dad. Home and well at home.”

He snorts and his dad’s smile gets a bit bigger. He breathes in deeply, raises a hand to rub at were he’s squeezed his head. It’s midday, he thinks, and he’s not sure how he ended up on the floor, but he did and now he’s here.

“Back with me?”

“Mhm,” Matt says, because actual words are beyond him at the moment.

“Good. Your mom and I made sandwiches for lunch, whenever you feel up to going downstairs. I think Pidge is under the impression that you’re working on that robot today, but I’m sure it can get pushed back bit.”

“No,” he says, harsher than intended. His dad only raises an eyebrow. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be down in a minute, just give a sec.”

“You can take more time, Matt. It’s okay to have bad days.”

“If they’re all bad, there’s no real point.”

“What do you mean?” His dad asks carefully, and oh, no he didn’t mean that.

“No, not- not that, just there’s no real, uh, no real point in taking time to breathe if it’s always the same. Just gotta get up and go eventually.”

“True,” his dad says thoughtfully. “But it’s always better to give yourself the option of a break. Sometimes we need it. Things are different now. You can stop, think a little.”

“All I do is think, dad. I don’t think it’s putting me in any kind of better headspace. We won, everything looks like we won, so it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. This is the good ending. Wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

His voice is so flat he’s pretty sure he’s not fooling anyone, even himself, but his dad pats him on the shoulder all the same and ambles his way upright. “Okay. Come down for lunch whenever you’re ready.”

He leaves, and Matt wonders if that last comment was about more than the lunch.

\---

Keith and him never got as close as him and Shiro, but they did bond over dumb things like he thought they would.

He doesn’t really think about him in space, captured and put to work and then running around in an army. There’s a stray thought that he hopes he’s okay, not losing his shit at them being gone, but it’s an empty thought.

He doesn’t even think about Keith being in space when he finds out. It makes perfect sense. Kid was never gonna let Shiro waste away up here, would always figure out the cover up.

He doesn’t think about Keith until Keith almost blows himself up to stop a Galra ship from killing millions of people and Lotor shows up and stops him from it. He’s gripping the controls too hard, throat raw from screaming at him over the coms, and when they all meet up on the castle ship, and corners him before negotiations begin.

“What the fuck was that,” he says breathlessly. “Out there just now. What was that?”

“Me doing my job?”

“Your job,” he repeats, taking in a breath. “Okay. Okay there’s a million different things wrong with that, but let’s start with the biggest. Your job isn’t to fucking _die_.”

“Yeah I know that. But if it’s me versus ten systems worth of life forms, then it is.”

“There were other ways to deal with it—”

“Waiting for Voltron to get there to finish the job wasn’t going to work.” His voice is sharp, and Matt wonders when he grew up like this. “Our guns weren’t working, and no one was going to make it in time, or we thought, so the obvious choice of action is to just go straight for it. My explosion would’ve cut their defenses and you all would have had a shot at taking it down.”

He hates that there’s logic behind this, because he’s right and he knows it. Fuck. Fuck he doesn’t want to deal with it.

“You… fuck. Come on. Give me something I can argue here. I don’t wanna condone you going in to off yourself to safe the world. Because you’re right but you shouldn’t be and it’s the universe’s most fucked up situation. God, Keith. You could’ve died.”

“It’s just like that now.”

“Shut up,” he says harshly. “Shut up, don’t fucking act like it’s ‘We all die’ now. It’s not. You’re alive, so fucking act like it.”

“I am! If I wasn’t alive I wouldn’t be able to sacrifice myself—”

“Not like that you asshole! Fuck off! Shut up! Stop acting like your only purpose is to die for the cause. That’s how you end up dying for jack shit. Sure, this would’ve been a heroic death and everyone would’ve praised your name and all that bullshit and _maybe_ if their shields had gone down it would’ve worked, but it didn’t happen and you’re acting like your biggest contribution to us would by dying in a fiery explosion and it’s not! You’re cared about, alright? You don’t just get to act like you almost dying is nothing when it’s everything. I’m not losing people that don’t need to be lost, and I’d rather not lose people who die for the right reasons.”

“Matt—”

“I’m not listening. Just…” he sighs, anger gone. His whole self slumps and he turns. “Think about it, okay? I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He starts walking out of the room he chose for that discussion and pauses at the door. “You should tell your team what you did. See how they act. If it’s all cheerful thank you’s like you want.”

And then he leaves, storming off to whatever meeting they’re setting up with the head asshole’s son. Who’ll probably just end up being asshole in training, junior asshole, heir de asshole.

Heh. Heir de asshole.

Pidge would like that one.

\---

Matt wakes up sweating, hair clinging to him in the most uncomfortable of ways. He pulls it up and away from his face, dragging his shirt off as well. It’s the middle of the night, and he kicks the covers off his body. The darkness seems never ending so he flips on his lamp, staring at his too clean ceiling, with no bumps or cracks in the paint. It’s too perfect.

His head feels heavy.

His head’s felt heavy for months now, in fact. Both literally and figuratively.

Growing his hair out had been a good way to keep track of time, kind of, but he doesn’t need to anymore. It hits his mid shoulders now, gets tangled too easy because he just lets it sit there and doesn’t shower or brush it. It’s long, if he keeps growing he could get it as long as Pidge’s was before they cut it all off to sneak around the Garrison. Wouldn’t that be fun, both of them growing it out to crazy lengths.

He springs upright and walks to the bathroom. Pidge and him have the second floor to themselves, and he closes the bathroom door, locking it behind him. He rummages around in the drawer before he finds what he’s looking for, hair cutting scissors.

The first snip feels like it rings in his ears, and he stares at his reflection in the mirror, hair unevenly chopped right next to his face. He cuts it again, shearing it shorter each time. He can’t cut his own hair, so he cut it short enough and then shave all the rest off. He’ll leave some of course, use the longest guard to make sure he can still put his hands in and yank if he needs to, but first he needs all this length off.

The clippers are heavy in his hands and he plugs them in, listening to the buzz of the blades echoing in the bathroom. The edges of his hair drop into the sink, following all the long bits.

Pidge never wakes up, or if they do they don’t make him aware of it. He showers, scrubbing all the hair off of himself in the water and shampooing what feels like too short hair. It’s soft, fuzzy, resisting the push of his hand.

He visits Shiro the next day.

“It’s short,” is the first thing out of his mouth.

“I’m finally military grade now. Think they’ll want me back? I can prove I’ve changed enough to get let in, after all that shit with the Galra.”

“I dunno, dress code for clothes is pretty important.”

“That orange uniform is never going anywhere near me again, just you wait and see.”

“I’d rather not, if we’re waiting for never.”

This is nice, this is good. This is like normal again, playful banter, not skirting around the fact that one of them was found out as an evil clone before a soul transplant and the other’s ended up too fucked up to get out of bed most days.

“So,” Matt says because he can’t help himself. “Who’s Curtis?”

Shiro sighs and grins tiredly. “Boyfriend. Officer. Good.”

“Oh, two descriptors and one adjective. We’ve really hit the jackpot on this one.”

“Pff, as if that’s what it takes to hit the jackpot. Honestly, if I stick around him a little more, it’ll be two descriptors and two adjectives.”

“That’ll be a momentous day. Shiro will finally be able to tell me two things about personality than just the one I have to base an entire person around. Finally, something to work with. You should strive for this in all your relationships.”

“I think I love him.”

“Little quick, huh?” Matt knows they’ve moved in together, that Shiro seems very attached to this man who’s appeared from seemingly thin air, but he’s happy and what more does he want for him?

“Just thinking out loud. Haven’t said it yet, but it feels right. Love. What I wild concept after everything we went through.”

“You ever think about how we’re the same age?” Matt busts out, because all this talk of love is stressing him out because Shiro’s moving way too fast for comfort reasons and Matt can’t handle that flaw in character today.

“What do you mean?”

“You disappeared for three years. I caught up. We’re both twenty seven. It’s weird. You should be older, I don’t like it.”

“Could act younger.”

“Shiro,” he says tiredly. “Shiro it’s all fucked.”

“Hey,” he says, frowning. “Come on it’s not all bad.”

“I need to leave my parents house but I don’t know how, Keith’s off doing shit with his mom, you’re moved in with a guy you barely know, everyone else is doing fuck all in this mess we left behind and I can’t even get out of bed most days. I shaved off all my hair tonight. It’s a shitshow, Shiro.”

“It’ll work out,” he says calmly, and he never was the same after the clone took over things. Ever since he got his soul back from Black he’s bee weird and subdued, less likely to plan for the inevitable demise of their physical and mental states than he would’ve been during Garrison days. “We just need to let it play out.”

“Let it play out,” Matt says disbelievingly. He sits on the couch, ignoring everything that tells him to turn tail and run from this imposter because this is it, this is all that’s left of the Shiro he used to shoot the shit with on the daily. He’s changed, and Matt as changed but it’s with age. Shiro’s changed and it’s almost unnatural.

“Choose a movie,” he practically demands. “Any movie, literally. I need a distraction.”

Shiro pulls a up this cheesy kids movie, maybe a Disney one, and Matt tries to lose himself in the story.

It doesn’t quite work.

\---

You know what was fucked up?” Pidge asks him in their lab on the ship.

“Hmm?” He asks around the screw in his mouth.

“How you really left me to find you grave.”

He pauses, making sure he won’t break anything, and then he sets his tools down. “It helped you find me.”

“Yeah, _after_.” They don’t elaborate and he cocks his head.

“It was the wrong birthday, obviously. You know my birthday.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t realize it at first. You realize how fucked up it is to go through a whole graveyard trying not to find your name and then finding it? Bad day.”

They won’t look at him.

“Pidge—”

“Just for future reference, you know. In case you ever try to send me a message again, don’t put it in your fucking headstone.”

They twist their screw and it groans and they grit their teeth, still not looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, because he’s not sure what else to see.

“You should be.” They say this at their whole body turns with the effort of how hard they’re screwing. “Imagine finding dad’s headstone out there and knowing the thing you’re most afraid of is true. That he’s dead. You could’ve been dead, and if my translator had messed up, I never would have known. Fucking- think about it for a minute before you do that.”

They let go of the screwdriver, heaving a bit, and Matt stands, pulling them into a hug.

“Fuck off,” they say weakly.

“Language,” he says as he pulls them in tighter. “I am sorry. I didn’t realize. I just assumed you’d figure it out, if you ever even ended up in space, and you did. I don’t wanna think about that from the opposite side, finding you of your guys’ gravestones after looking for a year. It sounds like a bad day.”

“It was,” they mumble, hugging him in earnest now. “It sucked a lot.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Lemme make it up to you?”

“Dunno how you can, but okay.”

“One of my team has peanut butter that got picked up off Earth. I can try and swindle you some for the next time we meet up.”

They pull back and look at him. “It won’t make it up but it will put me a whole lot closer to the idea.”

“Deal?”

“Deal,” they say, hugging him again. “Just don’t fucking die between now and then.”

“I won’t jinx it,” he says, patting their hair down. He wishes it could be like this more, the two of them reconnecting. “Not for a million dollars.”

There’ll be time when the war’s done.

\---

“I have to move out,” he says to his mom while stirring soup she’s co-opted him for.

“Why on earth for?” She asks him, setting down her supplies and turning to him. “What brought this up?”

“I’m sucking everything up here. I’m twenty seven, you’re dealing with being together again, Pidge is back, Everyone’s back, and I’m just stuck and I need to get out and leave before I stay here forever.”

“I don’t think I’d really mind if you were here forever, considering how long it took you to get home. You welcome here Matty, that hasn’t changed a bit.”

“It should,” he says, staring at the liquid. “I’m a mess now. You know it, dad knows it, Pidge definitely knows it. I can barely get out of bed unless I feel like it’s an obligation and even then it’s hard. It’s over. All the bad stuff hit but it’s over and I need to be over it.”

“Sweetie,” she says coming up next to him. “It was war. Of course things are bad. You’re out of the scary situation you were in and now your body has time to process everything. And there’s a lot to processes. You just have to let it cycle through. You’ll get there eventually.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then that’s fine too. You just need to worry about feeling better and reconnecting, and I think you’re reconnecting pretty well.”

“It’s not good, mom. It’s all bad.” He stops stirring and just stares at the soup, wonders what it would be like to put his hand in a boiling pot. “I wonder sometimes if it’s better in or out of it.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, pressing against his side, he leans on her. “It’s normal. Your dad does it sometimes, gets a little bit lost without the purpose of doing something. Pidge too, though I think they’re more quiet about it, even to you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he says honestly, for the first time in a long time. It shakes him. He doesn’t know what to do and that’s why it’s all so heavy. And it’s _so_ heavy. His shoulders shake and the spoon clatters against the sides of the pot a few times before he pulls it out and sets it down. His mom turns him to face her and he crumples, pulling her into a hug and burying his face in her shoulder. The tears come easy, too easy, and she holds him close and shushes him.

“That’s it sweetie, just let it out. You’re home, you’re safe.” He sobs into her shirt, and it’s been a long, long time since he cried in his mother’s arms. She rubs a hand through his now short hair.

“I don’t know what to _do_ ,” he says again, and she nods.

“I know. It’s all so much when the world you’re used to stops being the norm. You just have to let things in, and sometimes laying in bed all day is the way to fix it, and sometimes forcing yourself out of bed to help Pidge with that robot is the way too. Whatever helps, I’m here for it.”

He nods, sniffling, and lets himself sit in the hug for a while longer. She doesn’t rush him, just reaches a hand out to turn off the burner.

“Alright,” she says when he finally does pull back. “Does that feel better? Do you still feel like you need to move far away?”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to leave, this is home, this will always be home.

“Okay,” she smiles. “Let’s get this soup back to cooking temperature.”

Matt helps her finish up, and by then Pidge and Dad are back for dinner. He sits between Pidge and their dad, looking at their mom for reassurance. She stays remarkably pleasant, and he loves her for it.

The end of the war is not pretty, and they lose people they shouldn’t, but it’s okay for him. Maybe not okay, but getting there. He doesn’t need to be okay, he just needs to be his own brand of functional.

He doesn’t feel like quite as big a burden, knows his parents at least want him there, and that Pidge would never tell him to leave now. This is his home, and it’s time for him to act like it.

The war is over and Matt Holt it out of it, for now, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is this? me, parker, writing voltron fic in 2019? unheard of  
> i got slammed with matt feelings on the roadtrip back to my home and had to write them.  
> Im sick please have this


End file.
